Madame Chrysantheme — Complete eBook

From the deck I can see him through my glass, climbing
up the green mountain-path; he walks with a brisk,
rapid step, almost running; what a hurry he seems
in to rejoin little Chrysantheme!

When I arrive, about nine o’clock, I find him
seated on the floor, in the middle of my rooms, with
naked torso (this is a sufficiently proper costume
for private life here, I admit). Around him are
grouped Chrysantheme, Oyouki, and Mademoiselle Dede
the maid, all eagerly rubbing his back with little
blue towels decorated with storks and humorous subjects.

Good heavens! what can he have been doing to be so
hot, and to have put himself in such a state?

He tells me that near our house, a little farther
up the mountain, he has discovered a fencing-gallery:
that till nightfall he had been engaged in a fencing-bout
against Japanese, who fought with two-handed swords,
springing like cats, as is the custom of their country.
With his French method of fencing, he had given them
a good drubbing. Upon which, with many a low
bow, they had shown him their admiration by bringing
him a quantity of nice little iced things to drink.
All this combined had thrown him into a fearful perspiration.

Ah, very well! Nevertheless, this did not quite
explain to me!

He is delighted with his evening; intends to go and
amuse himself every day by beating them; he even thinks
of taking pupils.

Once his back is dried, all together, the three mousmes
and himself, play at Japanese pigeon-vole. Really
I could not wish for anything more innocent, or more
correct in every respect.

Charles N——­and Madame Jonquille,
his wife, arrived unexpectedly about ten o’clock.
(They were wandering about in the dark shrubberies
in our neighborhood, and, seeing our lights, came
up to us.)

They intend to finish the evening at the tea-house
of the toads, and they try to induce us to go and
drink some iced sherbets with them. It is at
least an hour’s walk from here, on the other
side of the town, halfway up the hill, in the gardens
of the large pagoda dedicated to Osueva; but they
stick to their idea, pretending that in this clear
night and bright moonlight we shall have a lovely
view from the terrace of the temple.

Lovely, I have no doubt, but we had intended going
to bed. However, be it so, let us go with them.

We hire five djins and five cars down below, in the
principal street, in front of Madame Tres-Propre’s
shop, who, for this late expedition, chooses for us
her largest round lanterns-big, red balloons, decorated
with starfish, seaweed, and green sharks.

It is nearly eleven o’clock when we make our
start. In the central quarters the virtuous Nipponese
are already closing their little booths, putting out
their lamps, shutting the wooden framework, drawing
their paper panels.